For 25 years I've driven past this olde pioneer house just a mile up my road in Cherry Crick...
This Olde House
By Gary Jacobson © 2002
For lo 25 years
I have driven past this olde pioneer house
Speaking volumes of a past no one hears
In its silence long lost lore to arouse...
Still standing in solemn tribute to past ages
This olde house bides bleached and bare
History’s testament held in clapboard pages
Now surrendered from a world of care...
This Olde house once filled with pleasure
This Olde house once filled with pain
This Olde house once filled with joy
Now marks time abandoned in disdain...
This sagebrush sentinel causes ponder
Abandoned destitute in sorrow
Raising questions in illusion’s wonder
Thoughts from a rugged past to borrow...
yet in peaceful desert air
This olde house still stands serene
Brawny days of yore gathered there
Breathing storys told of this desert queen...
Spring roses surround its ancient weathered bone
Its haunting frame bleached ashen bare
As ghostly apparitions of ages long since gone
Dance by dusty windows, pallid fair...
Oh what rapture once filled its bosom
Children’s laughter, light and gay
From rough elements offered protecting asylum
Amid primitive bitterbush dangers allay...
This olde house allayed night's darkness
Allayed too its awesome fears
To brave pioneers hazarding adventurousness
Disposed to homesteading the middle of nowheres...
Set at its doorstep wild mountain wilderness
Raiding Shoshones from nearby lairs
Creatures great and small roamed its address
Ranging Mountain Lions, Indians, grizzly bears...
This old house once held homespun goodness
Rough hewn stock, mother and father
Offering a hard life simple, homely, unpretentious
In a desolate land where pioneers gather...
Lonely is this monument to solidarity
Still singing silent songs of yesteryear
Solaced in its visage solitary
Speaking of times till today held dear...
History as olde lace from decaying fabric
Unravels from this old house of woven tapestry
Lingering past from grand west barbaric
Shaded at welcome rest, under an old pine tree.
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